Birdy

White linen tickled the roots of the tall grass blades, the foliage was rich and glorious. The sun blanketed the already warm surface of her planet making the air sweet. Walking further and further into the green, the air became wetter than sweat. And just like how a fish breathes she imagined herself doing the same. Gliding through the kelp forests. She used her gills to survive. The irony of her thirst as the trees leaked sweet sap and condensation made her giggle.

Then just like that. A shrill moan came from above, snapping her out of a daydream. Looking up she became hostage to a creature. A creature with no reasoning. The route she had taken was a certain death trap. She didn't care. In Fact she took the forbidden mile for that very reason. Her eye contact was gentle and beguiling, his gaze was cruel and menacing. She didn’t seem to mind the looming threat, after all her brain was already cruel enough.

Now with autopilot switched on she dipped in and out of reality, turning from a solid to a mist. She lowered her hand and reached for her satchel. The pearlescent beetle leather bag was soaked from the air. Her fingers slid effortlessly over the buckle. Now realising her struggle she began to slip into a panic. A creature of the sticks hunted her, yet all she wanted and all she desired was her crispy collection of handwritten prophecies bound together with banana leaves and wax. To hold and to read.

As the panic set in, her gills closed off. She had to learn to breathe again but the transition was suffocating. Her legs became weak and unsure, and her fingers trembled. For all she wanted and all she needed was her words. Promptly realising that she wasn't quite ready to face death, her lungs began to work. Harder than they ever had. Her legs carried her to safety as she batted her way through the labyrinth, twisting and turning in a feat to escape the beast. White beams blinded her. The beams were so long and tall that she was sure they were the Gods' paths to heaven. Tearing through the sticks with their blinding and fiery rage she saw hope. A deep breath in. A deep breath out, and she was home.

Whistling away she sang. Her bird was back. “Birdy”. 2000ft above and his eyes locked with the only love he’d ever known. His body was white and grey, a gloomy combination that blended him well with the landscape. As far as the eye could see, the buildings became rock tinted with green. The fallen concrete towers became somewhat beautiful. And the world became quiet. There was so much care taken in the birth of the cityscapes but as the trees wept, the animals cried, and the oceans wailed, care was absent. Now the concrete suffered and life began again.

Circling above her. Faster and faster he gained more and more speed. His vision became a smear of green and blue as the ground below neared, replicating a world he once knew. Now visible to her, he held in his mouth a thin delicate chain. Grey like his body and silver in places like his neck. He clumsily fumbled through the sky as a gust of wind pushed him. Looking up she shut away the brightness, held out her hands and awaited his landing. His orange feet dug into her palms and the chain snaked carefully on her skin. “Birdy boy,” she exhaled, “What a pretty man”. Her only companion hopped off of her hand. Flapping his wings he gestured to his gift.

Lying on her back she felt her heart. They were both tucked away in the nest they had built for themselves. It was their world. The leaves beneath them were crisp and warm.

Just like the earth's death and destruction, nice things and gifts seemed to disappear with it.

On her back she felt her heart. The depth of the beat. She held the chain up to the sky and now with open eyes realised its beauty and comfort. Turning to Birdy she noticed an invader in the nest. A heart-shaped locket.

“Dear paper, today I discovered love. My days are numbered and my eyes are heavy. I’m tired. I am starving in so many different ways. I’ve been begging for a sign. I’ve screamed to the heavens to help me. We destroyed their planet, their home, our home. And yet through all this pain they seem unscathed. He should be with his kind planning some sort of demise of our species. Why isn't he planning our demise? Or seeking revenge on our selfish souls? Or pecking my eyes out and feeding me to his family? Maybe he doesn't have a family… But instead, he teaches me how to forgive. How to move on. Through generations and generations of human kind, we hold onto the past. We don’t forgive. And we certainly don’t forget. We never move forward. We never learn. Or love. And yet this little tiny grey bird calls me his home.”

As she scribbled furiously tearing words through her crispy thin sheet of paper that was bound together with banana leaves and honey wax. She turned to her small friend and whispered “When I grow weak and die. Do not bury me. Do not say a prayer or light a candle. But instead lay this heart-shaped locket on my chest.”